


Roadrunners

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [170]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Creepy Jesus Slug thing, Gen, Injury, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf
Summary: The aftermath of Scully's misadventure with the cultists in Utah.





	Roadrunners

“Excruciating” does not even begin to characterize the degree of pain in her back and neck. It is so intense that she briefly loses consciousness on the way out of the barn, coming to in Doggett’s arms in the middle of the road, surrounded by flashing lights and police sirens. His hold on her slips, and his blood-slick hands grip tighter to compensate; lightning shoots up her spine, making her groan. 

“I need some help here!” he bellows.

Agony stretches minutes into hours, during which she is dimly aware of being loaded into the back of a squad car. Her head is lifted from the seat and set on someone’s lap, and in her semi-lucid state she sighs with relief that Mulder has come back to rescue her like always. He’s telling her to stay awake, to stay with him, but there’s something wrong with his voice, and she fights to open her eyes so she can see why he sounds so different.

But her eyelids are leaden, and she’s distracted from the mystery of his voice by the thought that she had better not bleed out in his arms just after she’s gotten him back.

That’s the last thought she has for a long time.

***

When she finally wakes in the hospital, she doesn’t know at first whether it is hours later or days. She can’t remember how she got here or, for that matter, anything that happened after Doggett cut that thing out of her neck. All she knows is that she is both exhausted and lucky to be alive.

A nurse eventually fills her in on the timeline, at least since she arrived at the hospital. She went into surgery almost sixteen hours ago to repair both the incision in her neck and the wound low on her back. The latter caused quite a bit of confusion among the surgical staff, as its nature and origin were impossible to identify, and it required a skin graft from an area on her thigh. They’ll need to keep her here for at least a few more days to monitor its progress and give her a chance to start healing before she flies home. Also, when the blood work revealed her pregnancy, some additional tests were run, including an ultrasound. 

Her hand comes up instinctively to cover her abdomen, and the nurse tells her with a reassuring smile that everything looks fine. “We weren’t sure whether you were even aware of your condition, since your partner didn’t mention it when he brought you in.”

She swallows. That probably means she didn’t blurt it out to him at some point in her delirium. “My par… Agent Doggett doesn’t know. And I’m not ready to share that information with him, just yet.”

“That’s all right, Dana. That is absolutely your call. We just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Thank you,” she says, feeling simultaneously grateful and a little guilty that her secret is still safe.

Doggett had her back on this, even after she ditched him. She, who should know better than anyone how awful it feels to have your partner run off alone, leaving you in the dark and worried and three steps behind. Doggett may have rubbed her the wrong way when they first met, and she may be having trouble adjusting to this new partnership still, but he didn’t deserve that. He came through anyway and undoubtedly saved her life, so it feels a little wrong to continue hiding things from him. Especially when it comes to things of a medical nature, it can be important for partners to have all of the relevant information about one another, for use in situations precisely like this one.

This in no way means she is actually ready to tell him about her pregnancy; it only means that she will feel some measure of personal and professional guilt over not doing so.

“Do you know if Agent Doggett is still in Utah?” she asks, wondering if he went back to Washington once it was clear she made it out of surgery all right.

“Oh, he’s right out in the hall,” the nurse says, gesturing toward the door. “He wanted to wait nearby until you woke up. Would you like me to go and get him?”

More guilt. She’s underestimated him yet again.

“I, um… Yes, thank you.”

***

Their conversation is brief. She thanks him for what he did, and he tells her he’s just glad she’s okay. He looks tired, and even though he’s changed his shirt, she can see some dried blood on his suit pants. Her blood.

When she tells him she will need to stay in the hospital for several more days, he frowns. “Like they kept you an extra long time in Arizona. Something going on I need to know about?”

“The entry wound on my lower back required a skin graft,” she explains, hoping that her eyes don’t give away the true answer to his question. “It’s standard procedure to keep graft patients under observation until it is clear the tissue won’t be rejected.”

His eyes widen. “That thing really did a number on you, didn’t it?”

She shudders at the memory of how it felt to have that creature migrating up her spine. She has never felt pain like that in her life, ever.

“Well listen, if you’re gonna be out of commission for a few days, I’ll go ahead and get the ball rolling on prosecuting these whackos. I think we can get enough to put the whole cult away for good, and then some. I’ll probably work out of the field office in Salt Lake for the most part, so if you need anything, I’m only an hour away.”

She thanks him again, and he leaves with a nod and without even giving her a hard time about running off out here alone. It’s better than she deserves, and as she starts to drift back to sleep, utterly worn out by just the two short interactions of the day, she promises herself she will apologize to him properly the next time they speak.


End file.
